


Magic And Mafias

by darkfantasies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Because That Would Ruin The Plot, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Deamus, Drarry, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, From Sex to Love, Frustration, Gay, Humor, I Blame Tumblr, I Don't Even Know, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, Light-Hearted, Lingerie, M/M, Oral Sex, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Sex Toys, Smut, Threesome, Top Harry Potter, What Was I Thinking?, Why Did I Write This?, attempts at humor, beville, mafia, naturally I fail, romione
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-02-06 07:05:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12812247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkfantasies/pseuds/darkfantasies
Summary: Harry is the newly-appointed head of the Order Of The Phoenix—renamed to Dumbledore's Army—after the mysterious death of former head Albus Dumbledore. When news that the Death Eaters—a rival gang—has begun regrouping and is planning to take over their territory, Harry must lead his members into action while making decisions that might put those closest to him at risk, along with trying to keep a handle on his growing feelings for Draco Malfoy.tl:dr Mafia!AU wherein Voldemort and the Death Eaters are a serious issue but Harry is more preoccupied with Draco Malfoy





	1. I Hate That Tie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mafia au that nobody asked for but I'm writing anyway because it's lowkey (highkey) self-indulgent and trust me when I say that it's better than the summary sounds and also drarry-centric if you haven't noticed already but the other ships are also gonna be delved into and also note that the tone of this is gonna be quite light, so don't expect any really dark shit (you can check out my other fic Beautiful Disaster for some deep dark angsty drarry) and without further ado, enjoy!

Harry idly coiled the pale blond lock of hair around his finger, then tugged it lightly. A sweet moan pierced the air, already heavy with alcohol fumes and tobacco.

“Hush pet,” he whispered, his voice dangerously low and sultry.

The man at his feet just nodded subduedly, lowering his gaze as he peered up at Harry. Long translucent lashes fluttered against his cheek, his silver eyes locking firmly onto Harry’s own emerald ones.

Harry smiled indulgently and let his hand trail down the smooth column of the man’s neck, fingering the black leather collar marring the ivory skin. Someone cleared their throat, and Harry dragged his gaze away from his pet, lazily sizing up the fidgety boy in his presence who couldn’t have been more than 20.

“What do you want, Colin?” Harry drawled, letting himself show how really bored out of his mind he was.

“It’s Riddle, Sir,” the boy managed to choke out, eyes darting to the man practically coiled around Harry’s feet.

“My eyes are up here,” Harry felt compelled to add, pulling the collar just so he could hear the man at his feet gasp.

“It’s his group of Death Eaters. They’re creating havoc on our turf, terrorising the muggles.”

Harry closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He must have been quite the sight, because the boy let out a squeak.

“What does Hermione have to say about all this?”

“She’s been a bit preoccupied lately…”

“Riddle and his cronies have risen from the ashes like a phoenix and you’re saying that Hermione is __preoccupied__?”

The boy squirmed under his glare, hands white-knuckled as he clenched them. Harry waved his hand, dismissing the boy who stumbled out the door clumsily. The man at his feet slid up, climbing into his lap and straddling him. The glint of metal on the erect pink nipple caught his eye and he smiled wickedly as he tugged it, eliciting a moan from the man.

“Draco,” he sighed, running his hands along the blond’s ribs and coming to rest on his hips.

He squeezed, fingers digging into the pale skin and leaving behind red crescent moons. The blond cocked his head, licking his lips sinfully as he took in the sight of Harry.

“Take me,” Draco whispered, leaning close to say in Harry’s ear.

Harry just nodded dumbly and Draco stood up, pulling down the lacy scarlet thong, the only piece of clothing he was wearing, save for the collar. He smirked as he watched Harry’s eyes follow the flimsy thing as he threw it over his shoulder and it landed on the desk of paperwork.

He turned around and bent over, spreading his legs as he laid his upper half on the table. He pulled his blond hair over his shoulder and turned to cast a wanton look at Harry.

His puckered hole was wet and pink, already stretched tight around a black butt plug. The flared base peeked out between pale ivory cheeks, and Harry traced his finger down the curve of his spine, between the crease of his arse and pushed the anal plug in deeper. Draco moaned unabashedly, arching his back as his legs trembled ever so slightly.

“Naughty boy,” Harry said applying pressure to the base of the plug.

Draco pushed backwards, obviously desperate for more. Harry could feel his cock hardening at the erotic display. Draco’s breath hitched as Harry traced the stretched hole lightly, only letting his fingertips brush against the sensitive circle. But that was enough to elicit another needy whine from the blond.

“Didn't you have enough fun last night?” Harry asked condescendingly, provoking a frown from the disgruntled blond.

“You know you only played with Blaise last night, and made me watch,” Draco huffed, turning over and lying on the table, legs spread to give Harry a full view of his already weeping cock and his stretched hole.

The head of his cock was flushed darkly, the slit leaking precum. Harry however was drawn to the jealous pout that Draco didn’t bother to hide.

“I know you love being watched, and I love watching, so I thought it time we change things up,” said Harry, deliberately giving an answer that Draco would neither believe nor appreciate, just to rile him up.

“That is a blatant lie, and we both know it. Don’t pretend you didn’t fuck him just because you liked hearing him give his report while you impaled him on your cock,” Draco said airily, waving his hands in the air in exasperation.

“Would you rather I fuck Neville, while he gives his report?”

“I’d rather you fucked Ron, so at least I wouldn't have to feel like I’m being replaced!”

“Well sorry to disappoint, Draco, but Ron tends to swing the other way, if you haven’t already noticed,” Harry said, failing to hold in his laughter.

Draco huffed haughtily, rolling his eyes as he pushed a few strands of white-blond hair out of his face. Harry found the whole scene oddly comforting.

“You know you’re my favourite,” Harry said, if only to placate Draco.

“Of course I am, you daft oaf.”

Harry unbuttoned his pants in response, pushing them down with his underwear and releasing his throbbing cock. Draco’s eyes immediately devoured the sight, his tongue peeking out to lick his lips.

Harry took his time unbuttoning his vest, pushing Draco back onto the table when the other man tried to sink to his knees. He loosened his tie, taking in in one hand and laying it on the table carefully.

“I really hate that tie,” Draco commented, scowling at it as if it were an enemy. “Do yourself a favour and let me __incendio__  it.”

Harry made a point of nodding dramatically, eliciting another scowl from Draco. He finally unbuttoned his shirt, folding it carefully just to see Draco riled up in impatience. Draco’s cock was leaking copiously, his bottom lip red between his teeth as he watched the ludicrous spectacle.

Harry picked up the tie, fingering the red silk between his fingers. Draco’s eyes followed it eagerly. Harry ran a finger along the length of Draco’s cock, tracing the vein on the underside of it up the soft crown. He fingered the leaking slit, pressing down and causing Draco to mutter a stream of expletives.

Harry wrapped the tie around the base of Draco’s cock, then tied it deftly and secured it with a practised knot. Draco whined, then shot up, hands reaching down to untie it.

“Don’t you dare,” Harry ordered. “If you do, I’ll have you wearing a cock ring for a  month and fuck Blaise instead.”

Draco looked mortified at the threats and settled back down on the table, legs still spread lewdly. Harry smiled wickedly, running his finger up and down Draco’s erect member, fingering the slit when he reached the top. Draco’s fingers were pressed into his palm, his tongue loose as he moaned and begged and pleaded for Harry to release him of this torture.

“Fuck me already, Harry!” Draco pleaded, throwing his head back.

“If you insist.”

Harry pulled the plug out slightly, then thrust it back in. He slid it out and in, watching the black length disappear inside the man beneath him, the pink ring of muscles stretching around the toy.

“Fucking put your cock in me already!”

Harry deciding that he’d tortured the man enough, pulled out the anal plug and replaced it with his own cock. Draco was warm and tight around him, his walls clenching, squeezing Harry and felt like heaven. His hands were frantically grabbing at anything to ground him, the slender pale fingers coming to rest on Harry’s shoulders and hugging him close.

Harry hoisted him up, hands on his arse as he fucked Draco onto his cock, the blond moaning unabashedly. Draco’s moans filled the air in a litany, punctuated by Harry’s own name from the blond’s lips.

“Please,” Draco whined, fingernails digging into Harry’s back in what seemed like a poor attempt to ground himself.

Harry clumsily reached between them and pulled the knot loose with ease, despite the copious amount of pre-cum leaving the fabric stubbornly sticking to Draco’s cock. Maybe he would get rid of the tie now that it had been soiled thoroughly.

He tossed it to the floor, Draco’s unfocused eyes following it to the floor before dropping his head to rest on Harry’s shoulder once again.

The blond’s legs were wrapped loosely around his hips, sliding down despite Draco’s obvious efforts to hold himself up. Harry’s sweat-slicked skin didn’t help the situation in the slightest and while Draco wasn’t the heaviest person, it was still tiring to support the weight of a fully-grown man.

Harry backed Draco into the wall, using it as a support to hold Draco up and fuck himself harder into the slighter man. Draco’s hold on him tightened, fingernails dragging along his back, digging in deeper.

Harry’s own hold on Draco’s arse tightened, spreading them further apart and sinking deeper into the blond. In response, Draco threw his head back, knocking it against the wall and shuddered as he came onto Harry’s stomach and his own.

He panted unceremoniously, mouth opened in a slight ‘O’ and eyes pinched shut in ecstasy as he reached his climax.

Harry smiled wickedly at the sight, continuing to thrust into Draco, knowing the man was now ever closer to overstimulation, aiming to hit his prostate each time with the more apt position..

“Harry, Harry , please stop, I can’t take anymore!” Draco whimpered, spent and near tears.

Harry quickened his thrusts till finally, Draco’s arse clenching around his cock and the intense heat made him spill deep inside Draco and cease.

Draco inhaled sharply, slapping Harry’s chest as he slid out of him and let Draco down.

“You prick! I nearly died because of your psychotic fucking,” he whined, aiming for another slap.

“You can usually take more than that on any other night,” Harry quipped, catching Draco’s hand before he could another blow albeit weakly.

“I had a butt plug up my arse before you decided to ram your cock into me!”

“I don’t remember asking you to put anything in there recently,” Harry continued, amused nonetheless.

Draco huffed, bending down to pick up his scarlet thong which had slid off the table during their transpirations. His abused hole was almost a similar colour as it peeked through the now flushed cheeks.

Draco stood up and strutted over to the door before turning back to Harry and scowling. Harry chuckled in response, which seemed to further infuriate the blond, who stormed out without another word, not having bothered to even cast a simple cleansing charm to rid him of the sticky mess bot inside and out.

“What am I supposed to do with this butt plug?” Harry shouted after Draco, a smile still teasing his lips as he eyed the black toy which had rolled under his work table and had been soon after forgotten.

“Shove it up your own arse!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you liked what you've read, please leave kudos and comment!


	2. Let's Plan A Heist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter sort of sets the dynamics among everyone and lays out who exists and what they do and stuff and me kind of just laying everything out since it's an au, so enjoy!
> 
> also to note, I have no idea how a heist works so pardon the crappy attempt at me explaining shit

“Hermione, what exactly might you be doing?” Harry asked, leaning against the open door as Hermione pored over the blueprints on her table.

“Oh nothing of importance,” she answered, waving him away before she even finished her statement.

Harry sighed resignedly, pinching the bridge of his nose. He walked over and peered at the blueprints, trying to see if he could locate where it mapped out.

“These don’t look like the plans for Voldemort’s hideout,” he commented.

“Of course not, these are the plans for the Museum of Magical Artefacts.”

Before Harry could ask another question which would be curtly answered again, Ron bustled in, carrying a few rolls of parchment and a steaming pot of tea. Harry languidly stepped out of his way, watching Ron not notice him till he’d put down what he’d been carrying. He looked at the table and then blushed furiously.

“And what exactly are we poring over the Museum of Magical Artefacts for?” Harry asked pointedly, directing the question this time to Ron.

Ron mumbled something incoherent, glancing furtively at Hermione who didn’t seem to have heard the question or frankly didn’t care—probably the latter. He expertly averted his gaze, looking everywhere but at Harry. Harry sighed, knowing that his head of weaponry could coolly fire a gun but was reduced to a blushing mess when he was around Hermione.

“We’re planning a heist of course,” Blaise announced, parading in with Draco trailing behind—thankfully clothed.

Draco pouted when he saw Harry, sticking out his tongue and moving to the opposite side of the room, farthest away from Harry. Blaise looked between the two and smirked, causing Harry to smile witheringly in his direction. Blaise snorted and then sidled up to Hermione, sliding an arm around her waist.

Ron jumped at this, between himself whether to lay a claim on her or to suffer in silence. Hermione—as always—was blind to Ron’s inner conflict.

“I think entering through the skylight would be the most plausible—just two cameras to avoid when you descend,” Blaise commented to a nodding Hermione, already forming the basis of the plan in her head.

Harry, having given up on trying to butt in and change the course of action, just moved forward and pointed at the field of vision of two other cameras which Blaise had failed to notice.

Draco scowled at Harry, then commented blandly, “Why not just use the front door?”

Harry looked up, ready to chide the blond who was idly twirling his hair, but Hermione squealed. “That’s perfect, Draco! I should’ve thought of it sooner.”

Harry cleared his throat and Blaise in his confusion, let go of his hold on Hermione’s waist, blooming a triumphant smile on Ron’s face. “We just need to walk in, cast a disillusionment charm on ourselves, waltz in and take it. Now we just need to decide who gets to go, in case we need to _obliviate_  any guards or handle unforeseen circumstances.”

Harry was once again awed that this capable woman was the brains of his operation. Harry volunteered readily, fully believing that a leader shouldn't just sit back and delegate—plus he loved the thrill and adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“We’ll send in myself, Blaise, Hermione and Ron. I’ll be at the sidelines, watching how you carry things out—like a sort of evaluation. Hermione would hex me if I kept her away from whatever gem she’s after this time, and she can handle all the charms. Ron is for the unforeseen circumstances—being the head of weaponry and all. And of course Blaise is there for eye candy and to aid in the physical side of things and to aim for perfection.”

Draco snorted at that and rolled his eyes, jealousy rolling off him in waves.

“How about the new rookie? Ron’s sister, Ginny, shouldn't we be sending her in for training?”

“This is one of Hermione’s passion projects, the last thing we need is rookie dropping this thing and having Hermione commit a felony—no offense Ron.”

Ron nodded, more focused on Hermione’s shining eyes as she jotted notes on the parchment and promptly walked out of the room, probably to find Neville for any inside information.

“If you’re looking for Neville, he’s out by the garden! Remind him that he owes me a salad with those fresh tomatoes!”

“When are we planning this for, Hermione?” Harry called after her.

“Tonight, of course!” she answered giddily, followed by Draco cackling and Ron tripping over himself in shock.

* * *

Harry walked into his bedroom and shut the door behind him, satisfaction in hearing the lock click into place. The space was illuminated by a hanging chandelier—not as big as the one at the entrance, but big enough. He took in the spacious room, the king-sized bed at the centre and the vanity off to the side cluttered with Draco’s things. The door to his walk-in wardrobe was ajar and he walked towards it.

There were a few pairs of designer heels and and a silk green underwear stuffed into one of them. Harry sighed. He found himself sighing a lot nowadays when it came to Draco.

He’d started sleeping with Draco only a few months before Dumbledore died. He’d been intrigued by the former school friend who’d lost his family in the midst of a gang war. Lucius Malfoy had headed the famous Guild Of Purebloods, along with his wife Narcissa Black. When Blaise had dragged in a bloodied Draco in the middle of the night after the slaughter of one of the most prestigious gangs in the Wizarding World, Harry couldn’t help but wonder.

In one night, the Order Of The Phoenix had gained two new members—Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape. Severus had been and old friend of Dumbledore and Draco, Harry’s own former acquaintance. The flippant Draco hadn't been what he’d expected in the slightest.

Unlike in school, this Draco was very promiscuous and very homosexual. Harry had even once walked in on him trying to accost Neville who hadn't looked too dissatisfied with the whole situation. Whenever his parents had been brought up, Draco always managed to steer the conversation away—whether it due to heartache or indifference, Harry wasn’t entirely sure.

It had been rumoured in their school years that Draco had been abused by his father, along with being pressured with the immense weight of being expected to assume the role. Despite the rumours, Draco was anything but a mobster. Sure, Harry remember being scowled at on more than one occasion, but the Draco then had reminded him more of a hissy cat than anything. Nevertheless, they’d never been in the same social circles. And similarly after school, Harry had been inducted into the Order Of The Phoenix while Draco had been whisked away by the Guild.

The Draco now was frivolous, taking a backseat to the mafia world and lounging around in skimpy outfits that made it hard for Harry to function. Despite his uselessness in mafia operations, the members all still loved him and even Dumbledore claimed he was smarter than Hermione—though the claim seemed unfounded.

Intrigue, flirtation and sexual frustration had led to the current relationship he had with Draco—thoughtless, randy and with no strings attached. Harry had never really found out what had happened on the night the Guild Of Purebloods had been taken down by a mystery assailant, but it was Draco’s tale to tell and he wasn’t one to push. The secret had died with Dumbledore and Draco didn’t seem inclined to share.

Harry left his room, carefully locking the door behind him, making his way towards the dining room where he knew preparations for the heist would spill into. He walked down the hallway towards the bend that would lead towards the spacious dining room, his shoes clacking against the marbled floor, old portraits watching him—judging him—as he tried to live up to Dumbledore’s legacy.

The long dining table was covered in more parchment and blueprints than it was with food. Hermione had claimed the host’s seat at the head of the table, munching on a breadstick and pointing at various people and parchments. Ron had taken to helping the house elves serve lunch along with Neville, who was wearing an apron that said ‘Kiss the Cook’ and what Blaise was trying to do exactly.

Ginny seemed to be focused on braiding Draco’s hair while the Weasley twins—his suppliers—seemed embroiled in an intense game of wizard chess. Colin Creevey was fiddling with a muggle camera, clearly intent on trying to imbue it with magical properties. Cho was on her phone, probably the only one bothered with Voldemort and his Death Eaters after her boyfriend had been killed years ago.

Harry cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention to him and just as immediately dismissing his presence. How was he ever going to lead them when they didn't even respect his authority? Cho strode towards him with purpose and Harry braced himself to be lectured for not taking Voldemort seriously.

“I expect it’s the amethyst of Hestia we’re after?”

“I suppose so,” Harry said, clearing his throat and eyeing Hermione’s frantic arm gestures with the breadstick that was steadily decreasing in length.

“So I have word—and confirmed with Neville—that it’s in high demand among the black market especially because it can produce an everlasting flame and cause mass chaos. After some recon by Neville, he’s got word that the Death Eaters maybe after it too.”

“That’s amazing Cho, finally this heist serves more purpose than to satisfy Hermione’s lust for jewels. I don’t know why I put up with it sometimes, but clearly it's bearing fruit, being walked over by all my subordinates.”

“No offence, Harry, but you’re more a friend to us than a leader. Dumbledore was this sagely savant who everyone revered, but you’re down-to-earth and we can joke with you. Don’t doubt that we won’t follow your orders when the time comes and take a bullet or an _avada kedavra_  for you.”

Harry nodded, an easy smile stretching his lips as Cho took a seat at the table. These were his friends and he didn’t want to be on top of them like a dictator. He knew if he told Hermione to call off the heist, she’d do it and he was glad for it.

“Let’s eat and the get on with this heist!”

* * *

It almost seemed like he was a visitor at the museum, taking in the portraits of famous wizards and witches, taking in the exquisite details of a rare unhatched dragon egg. It had been so long since he’d gone out of the mansion and done something self-indulgent. The only self-indulgent thing he’d done even in the mansion was Draco and maybe putting his rage to use in weeding Neville’s prized garden.

The Museum Of Magical Artefacts was a quaint thing situated just outside of Godric’s Hollow—a hidden subdivision which was fronted by the muggle-friendly Museum Of National Artefacts. To enter, a witch or wizard had to enter through a well-concealed entrance behind an exhibition in the corner of the museum, much like the one at King’s Cross Station.

Hermione and Ron were in position, posed as a couple on a date, Ron’s arm possessively around Hermione’s waist and a cap obscuring his face, making him look like a teenager. Hermione was wearing sunglasses, the bubbly excitement of adding another jewel to her collection not needing her at all to act the part of an excited girlfriend.

Blaise was roaming by himself, Harry knew taking note of possible last minute escape points and artefacts that could be used against unwelcome company. He himself was dressed in a pair of ripped jeans and an old Celestina Warbeck concert t-shirt he’d found among his father’s old things. He’d been so used to wearing suits that this almost felt uncomfortable. When had he crossed the border into being so formal even in the company of his friends?

He looked at his watch, the second hand ticking away, ever closer to the 10pm when the museum would officially close. He fidgeted, scuffing his worn out shoes against the marbled floor as he walked around. It wasn’t that he was worried they’d mess this up, they’d done multiple heists before without a hitch. It’s just the thought of facing Voldemort made his skin crawl—though he’d never admit it to anyone else.

“Your arse looks really nice in those jeans,” a breathy voice said in his ear, a wandering hand flat against his arse.

Harry spun around, wand out in a second as he pinned down the perpetrator who turned out to be Blaise. Harry swore colourfully, Blaise raising his hands in mock surrender, a glint of real fear in his eyes.

“Why are you so on edge, Harry? It’s just another heist, we’ve done this before without a hitch,” Blaise said, running a hand down Harry’s arm.

“It’s just that Cho said Voldemort might be after this thing too and I hate to admit it, but it puts me on edge,” Harry confessed sheepishly.

“Think about it like this,” Blaise started, “if Draco—the wimp that he is—could survive Voldy, then certainly you can.”

“Wait, you mean Voldemort was the one who killed Draco’s parents?”

“You mean you didn’t know? I thought that with all the screwing, he would’ve mentioned it. Well, just pretend you never heard this then,” Blaise said hurriedly, waving away the conversation like Harry could just forget it. Before Harry could dive deeper into the secret Draco seemed to be trying so hard to hide from him, Blaise whispered, “Oh, it’s time to get into position. I’ll be off now bossman, we can continue the dirty talk when we finish this heist and I pin you down in bed.”

Blaise bounded off, casually strolling towards the bathrooms to cast a disillusionment charm on himself. Harry sighed, pulling the Invisibility Cloak out of Hermione’s bag as he casually walked past the pair who were gravitating towards the bathroom as well.

There was the off-chance that the magical cameras were spelled to pick up anyone with a disillusionment charm on them and that’s where Harry came in. Being unnoticed, he would slip into the security room and disarm the guards before they raised any alarms. Harry would call these heists unnecessary risks that didn’t have to be taken, but indulging Hermione was a habit that had started in school and would most likely follow him to his grave—which he hopefully didn’t have to visit very soon.

He stood against the wall, leaning against it as he watched the last of the stragglers exit through the singular entry point. This made it all the harder to escape. Anti-apparation wards like the ones in Hogwarts had been put up for extra security and while the floor plans hadn’t stated whether modifications had been made since the last time they’d picked the place clean, Harry couldn't help but worry.

The fluorescent lights clicked off at once, the dim moonlight illuminating the amethyst of Hestia under the skylight. It glimmered and Harry could almost see the eternal flame nestled within it. He walked over to the bathrooms, knocking on the door before waltzing back to his position against the wall. He was only here to observe, unless his help was needed.

Harry watched the doors open, the light patter of feet against the floor as the trio moved to work. Light protruded from what Harry assumed was Ron’s wand as he cast a charm to remove the heavy wards around the gem. Another wand soon followed, probably belonging to Hermione.

Harry felt a presence brush past him—Blaise removing the wards around the room, so the group would not be detected. He was probably relaying looped feeds to the security cameras as well. Harry honestly felt unneeded here.

He could have been back at the mansion fucking Draco into his mattress or entertaining a tantrum about how Jimmy Choos were much better than Manolo Blahniks. Unbidden thoughts about Draco flooded his mind, and he almost didn’t notice the soft breathing and the extra pairs of feet pattering throughout the room.

Dumbledore’s training however kicked in, and he instinctively quietened his breathing, pressing himself flat against the wall as he tried to ascertain how many there were. He couldn’t really decide from his vantage point, other than Hermione and Ron who were casting counter-spells in the middle of the room. Clearly the intruders had thought along the same line of thought Hermione had.

Maybe it was attributed to being in close proximity to Draco or the fact that the blond just really liked to stomp around when he was in a mood—which was always—but the subtle way the floor vibrated with every step cemented that there was at least one woman here—or at least someone like Draco.

Before he could think, a _homenum revelio_  had been uttered and the position of everyone in the room was revealed to Harry. Nobody was well-versed enough to notice the effect, but Harry heard Blaise swear somewhere off to the side and move towards Hermione and Ron.

Harry had been right, there were seven people in the room, not including himself. He mentally cursed himself and discreetly moved towards the two people huddled together and blasted them with a _stupefy_. Hermione yelped, her disillusionment charm disintegrating and revealing herself. Ron swore too and dropped his guise as well.

Harry removed his Invisibility Cloak and walking towards Hermione, slipped it into her bag. Blaise remained invisible and probably made to sweep the area to see if there were anymore uninvited guests.

One of the two was a tall dark man, probably no older than Harry himself. He was cradling a slighter ginger who’d probably taken the brunt of the attack. They didn’t look like people who were criminals, but then again to the untrained eye, neither did Ron most times.

The fear in the darker one’s eyes was starkly real and though he seemed to be trying very hard, he was trembling ever so slightly. If he was acting—he was good at it. Blaise returned with two hostages, ambling as if they had not a care in the world.

The woman was short even with her heels—the ones Harry had heard previously—yet had a high air around herself, more so belonging to an elite than a criminal. The devilish smile pulling her lips into a smirk said otherwise. Next to her, was a tall man, black hair curling elegantly and a long sharp nose, dark brown eyes like freshly crushed cinnamon meeting Harry’s own in piqued interest and an unshared secret.

“Who are you people?” Blaise hissed crudely, wand pointed at their backs.

“I’m Tom Riddle and I’m here for the amethyst of Hestia.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you liked what you read, please do leave kudos and comments


	3. That Didn't Go As Planned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what even am I writing don't @ me I have no idea either

“And who might you be?” Blaise purred, lowering his head to plant a kiss on the lady’s hand.

She blushed coyly, yet accepted the kiss graciously. Her long slender leg peeked through the slit in her burgundy dress. Hermione goggled unabashedly, though Harry suspected it was the heavy ruby around the girl’s throat that drew her attention the most.

The girl stepped away from Blaise and into Hermione’s personal space, pulling the wand out her pocket and eyeing it. Hermione stared blankly ahead and Harry readied his wand, ready to _obliviate_  her if needed.

“Mine is a unicorn hair core and dogwood. I see yours is vine wood and dragon heartstring,” she commented, pulling out what was presumably her wand from between her breasts and scrutinising the pair.

Ron coughed pointedly, looking away, while Blaise surged forward, perhaps to get a closer look at her bosom.

Harry was more focused on the odd pair that had appeared. It was obvious now that the pair on the floor were mere civilians. The dark one had an edge to him however as he quietly tried to shake away the other man who seemed to slowly be regaining consciousness. The first word that came to mind when Harry looked at the girl—sharp.

She could easily been deemed as doltish with the way she rakishly threw around smiles and laughs and bared her skin with pride, but there was something about her eyes that were vulpine and lined with deceit. Harry almost wanted to ask her how she carried it off so well.

“C-can we leave now?” the dark one asked, cradling the ginger one in his lap.

The girl rolled her eyes and then pointed her wand at them. “Can I just kill them, Riddle?” she asked, yawning as she did.

“Can’t you just _obliviate_  them?” Harry countered, ready to step in to stop any unnecessary casualties.

“Tried to use _legilimency_  on them but their _occlumency_  is strong and I don’t want to risk wiping everything in case the Ministry of Magic traces it back to me.”

“So it’s better to kill them?” Harry countered.

“I don’t know if you know how _legilimency_  works, but the empty mind can grasp onto anything to fill it—meaning my magical signature. If I kill someone, it’s not as easy to trace it back to me.”

The darker one gulped nervously as he hoisted the ginger one in his arms, eyes darting to the wand he’d been forced to give up.

“They’re clearly civilians, why can’t we just threaten them? They’re clearly terrified.”

“Why can’t we force them into an Unbreakable Vow?” Pansy retorted mockingly.

Harry was between slapping this girl or recruiting her—whichever brought about less ensuing chaos. He wisely picked neither, and settled on a disgruntled snarl.

The rest of his team mates bounced nervously between the storm brewing between Harry and the girl, both seemingly ready to pounce if the other crossed the line. It was through the veiled restraint that Harry realised that the girl was not in charge of the svelte duo and turned his attention to the towering man.

He had pale skin and an aristocratic nose, high cheekbones and eyes that reminded him of hot chocolate on rainy days, though they were chilly and distant. His jet-black hair was so dark it was almost blue as it fell in coiffed curls atop his head. He had the same dignified air as the girl beside him, like they were elites rather than mere thieves.

He wore a dark tailored suit, closely fitted to his lean body shape, catching on the harsh points of his body. This man was lean with muscle hidden under the gossamer of his skin, obvious in the way he’d leisurely walked into the room despite having a wand to his back. Everything about this man was immaculate and calculated.

The man having noticed Harry’s attention, smiled wickedly, making Harry’s heart still momentarily. This man before him was a work of art, every feature painstakingly beautiful and deliberate, his edges sharp and perfunctory. It made Harry feel fraught as he became painfully aware of his own ripped jeans and faded shirt.

“I’m sorry but we’ll be the ones taking the amethyst,” Blaise butt in, voice vitriolic.

The man cocked his head like a predator sizing up its prey, the caustic smile still playing on his taut lips almost as if Blaise had just spit out a bad joke. He turned to Harry and said roughly, his lilting voice never breaking, “Call down your __bitch__ , before I call on mine.”

Harry jerked at the command, looking at the girl to see her smile devilishly as well. Blaise looked discomposed, having taken a minuscule step back almost as if he’d been physically stung by the words. Harry teetered between just giving up or starting a full on duel, swaying between the options in his mind, weighing them against each other and finding no right solution.

He as a leader, couldn’t back down from his opponents, but would holding onto his pride outweigh the safety of his friends? He just about wished he’d never indulged Hermione in the first place.

Then he felt something hard hit him, a flash of light blinding his vision before he was unwillingly thrust into unconsciousness.

* * *

He woke to the sight of pale blond hair and a pinched expression that betrayed the concern that Draco would never admit out loud. He groaned unceremoniously, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. He ascertained that he was in his room, Draco poised elegantly at the edge of his bed in a silk floral-patterned robe.

“I’m sorry I interrupted your spa day,” Harry idly commented, smiling stupidly as Draco scowled at him.

It earned him a sharp jab in the shoulder and a series of mutterings in French as Draco stood up to fetch him the glass of water on his bedside table. He languidly slid over to Harry, kneeling as he motioned for Harry to sit up and drink.

Harry responded by running a hand up Draco’s exposed thigh up to where he felt the laces of Draco’s lingerie tickling his fingertips. Draco looked affronted, but not particularly at Harry’s advances. Harry then heard a pointed cough and jerked upright, finding Ron awkwardly leaning against the door to his room, eyes averted from where Harry had been so close to fondling Draco.

Harry cleared his throat and extricated his hand as he asked, “And what exactly happened back at the museum?”

“The girl hit you with some backhanded hex that knocked you out and they _apparated_  out of there without the amethyst. The guy said something about seeing you in due time before they left. Seemed rather theatrical to me, though I’m sure that’s right up Draco’s alley.”

Draco simply ignored the snide remark, having made himself comfortable on Harry’s bed and absently braiding his damp hair. He looked no more interested in the odd pair at the museum than he did with Neville’s garden. Harry motioned for Ron to go on, the ginger clearly itching to say something.

“I don’t know why they didn’t put up a fight, I mean they were clearly outnumbered but they were certainly more experienced by the looks of it and I’m almost positive that girl had a few more illegal hexes up her sleeves.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully, remembering the lithe fighter’s physique of the male, pronounced muscles accentuated with a nimble frame. The girl too seemed to exude danger carefully hidden behind the layers of charm she’d put on like armour.

“Did you recognise them?” Harry asked expectantly even though he already knew the answer.

He shook his head, but then jerked upright, “You know that tall dark man we took as hostage? Yeah, he seemed to have seen him before.”

“Wait, we took them as hostages!?” Harry exclaimed, nearly jumping out of the bed. He didn’t know whether to risk getting up to smack Ron for making this stupid decision or scream.

“Well, we couldn’t just leave them there,” Ron replied sheepishly, “and the ginger one was unconscious. We had Draco see if there was anything fatally wrong with him and zilch, just the after-effects of being hit by a particularly strong _stupefy_ laced with some other illegal jinx.”

“So you’re saying we brought back a pair of civilians to our headquarters and incriminating ourselves by keeping them hostage? Did Hermione sanction this plan, because I’ll need to have a serious talk with her if she did.” Harry started, rubbing his temples and wondering how much damage-control he’d have to do and whether he would actually have to end up _obliviating_  them.

“Actually Blaise was the one who suggested it. He said since our leader was out, we just had to wait for you to wake up and then make a decision.”

Harry, beyond frustrated and the subtle pain in his lower back found him shooing Ron away and saying he would take care of it once he had some rest. He felt a migraine coming on and slid back against his headboard, the fluffy pillows enveloping him and soothing his aching body and mind.

Draco, who’d been blissfully ignorant and quiet all this time, slithered between his legs, pushing them apart and nuzzled his nose against Harry’s crotch, whining sinfully as his hands deftly undid them and inched them lower. Harry, already impatient enough, wordlessly spelled them away much to Draco’s surprise.

Draco breathed hot air on Harry’s limp cock, licking a broad stripe along the bulging vein on the underside of it. He smirked as Harry bit his lip, the oncoming migraine put aside and the promising warmth of Draco’s mouth bringing him to full mast.

Draco raised an eyebrow at him and his sudden eagerness, hand held tightly around the base of his cock. He pumped once, licking the precum that beaded at the tip and then laughing as he stole a look at his face.

“Did whatever hex she put on you give you the sex drive of a 15 year old boy or something—not that you didn’t have that already,” Draco commented, lying on his stomach and drawing circles on Harry’s knee.

Harry huffed at the insult—if one could manage to look pissed with an erection at a deviant in their bed that happened to be their sex friend. Harry rubbed his forehead, the lightning scar aching for the first time he could remember. Draco sat up at that, manoeuvring himself into Harry’s lap.

He reached up and touched the scar reverently, tracing it with the tip of his index finger. Harry stilled at the intimate gesture. Draco and him had done things that would make Dumbledore roll over in his grave, this was nothing compared that, yet it felt as if Draco was scraping his insides raw and laying them out for him to see.

“Where did you get it from?” Draco asked quietly, breath tickling his face, breaking the silence.

“You already know the story—everyone does—why are you asking?’ Harry countered.

“I want to hear it from you, not from Ron or Hermione or some gossip magazine.”

“I can’t remember much, considering I was only an infant, but sometimes I think I can still hear the screams of my parents, but that doesn't make any logical sense.”

Draco was nodding thoughtfully, his body obstructing the light and the rest of his room.

Draco leaned forward, pressing his cool forehead against his Harry’s own. Maybe he was running a fever or the hex had done something to his body, because surely his heart shouldn’t have been beating this fast. His pulse was jumping as he slid his hands onto Draco’s hips, his erection between them long forgotten and slowly beginning to wither.

Draco’s skin was hot under his clammy hands and he almost expected the blond to berate him for it. The silver nipple piercing glinted in harsh light of the chandelier, Draco’s pink nipple taut and usually Harry would yearn to bend down and tease it, but no this time the feelings involved were much different.

Holding Draco like this was enough like he never thought it would be. The skin of the blond under his hands a reassurance he didn’t know he could find in a person. Yet, his heart was still beating erratically and his pulse almost as if he’d just taken a shot of adrenaline. He’d never felt like this before. What was happening to him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you liked what you read, please leave kudos and comment!!


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